


The Kings, the Prince and the Oliphant

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [53]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oliphant, Sexual Bribery, Slavery, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does the story of Thorin, Thranduil, Prince Castor and the elven king’s slavery reach its conclusion?  Yet another pursuit, an oliphant and a PC approach by the elven council to Thranduil’s enslavement down in Umbar might end in a disaster.  Perhaps a bit of sexual bribery will help?  Can be read as a standalone.  Previous story: The Kings and the Prince of Umbar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings, the Prince and the Oliphant

 

.o00o.

**Welcome back to another Prince Castor story in what has become – unintentionally – a trilogy.  And, btw, a big thank you to Nerwen who suggested that Thranduil’s experience in Umbar was likely to give him nightmares – and I’ve started this episode with that idea!**

.o00o.

 

The Kings, the Prince and the Oliphant

 

Pt I

 

 

The beams of a full moon shone, silver and pale, into the bedroom of the two kings in Mirkwood.  Thorin was fast asleep but Thranduil was beginning to stir and moan.  It happened most nights.  The nightmarish happenings of five months ago when Thranduil had been drugged, kidnapped and sold into slavery down in Umbar whilst they were visiting The Grey Havens still disturbed his sleep in a series of bad dreams.

 

Thorin began to stir too: the elf’s restlessness always woke him up and he moved to take him in his arms and soothe him.  “Shush,” he murmured.  “I’m here.”

 

Thranduil awoke with a start, a cry on his lips.  “Save me from him, Thorin!” he gasped.

 

“He’s far away, back in Umbar,” the dwarf whispered, stroking the elven king.  “He’ll never come near you again.”  But, Prince Castor, who had bought the elf, using him and debasing him, had threatened to come after them both and this was the threat that still haunted Thranduil’s dark dreams.  And, it was not an empty threat: when Thorin had helped Thranduil to escape, the prince had already pursued them once, sailing up the Anduin in a Corsair ship and cutting the two of them off as they came down from the Misty Mountains on their way home.  The dwarf’s leg had been broken in the attack and the two of them would have been spirited away back to Near Harad if they hadn’t been unexpectedly saved by Beorn.  The shape-shifter had taken them to the safety of his home and there they had remained for 6 weeks until Thorin’s leg had set and they had returned to Mirkwood.

 

Thranduil was awake now, his eyes wide and staring.  “He had me, Thorin!   He had both of us!  He said he would never give up.”

 

“But, what can he do,” reasoned the dwarf, “safe as we are within our kingdoms?”

 

“I don’t know,” muttered the elf, “but he has been thwarted and I fear he will find a way.”

 

Thorin pushed his lover onto his back and kissed him slowly and gently.  Thranduil held on to him tightly, like a drowning man.  Slowly, Thorin eased himself into the elf and began to build up a rhythm, kissing him all the while.  “Forget about Castor,” he said quietly.  “Think only of this.”  And the elven king finally gave himself up to the insistent thrusting and, after the violent spams were over, eventually fell asleep.

 

.o00o.

 

A few months earlier, whilst Thorin had been recuperating and waiting for his broken leg to set, Beorn had sent his birds with messages both to Mirkwood and The Lonely Mountain.  Legolas, Balin and Young Thorin, the heir to the throne of Erebor, had been very relieved to hear that the two kings were in safe hands.  They had known that their trip to The Grey Havens to attend an important elven conference would mean that they would be absent for a long time, but they had been gone for much longer than had been expected and there had been no news.  The messages had hinted at serious trouble and so, when Thorin and Thranduil had finally reached Mirkwood - the dwarven king with a bit of a limp - Legolas, Young Thorin and Balin were all there, waiting to hear what had kept them away for so long.

 

It was a private meeting and the two kings kept nothing back – well, nearly nothing.  Legolas, Young Thorin and Balin listened in horror to Thranduil’s tale of abduction and enslavement, murmured quiet cheers when they heard of Thorin’s successful rescue and then expressed concern when they learned of Castor’s pursuit and Thorin’s injury.  The elven king, however, did not go into the details of his sexual abuse nor did the dwarf mention his rape by the prince of Umbar.  Instead, the two kings discussed whether or not this should be passed on to the councils of Mirkwood and Erebor, but, in the end, decided against it.

 

“I think our people would be so angry that they would insist on raising our armies so that they could march on Umbar,” said Thranduil.  “And we want no-one to die for our sake.”

 

In the end, they concluded they would tell the councils that they had had ‘a bit of trouble’ with the Corsairs who had invaded Beorn’s land but that Beorn had eventually sent them packing – although not before an injury to Thorin’s leg.

 

And this is what they did.  At the next council meetings, they passed on all the details of the elven conference at The Grey Havens and then they talked briefly about the Corsair invasion.  This caused some concern but they were reassured that Beorn had dealt with it effectively and that they were unlikely to see such invaders again.

 

But, it was only a few months later that, during a week when Thorin was visiting Mirkwood, one of the elven scouts who patrolled the forest, presented himself before his king with a worrying piece of information.  He looked excited and concerned at the same time.

 

“My lord king,” he said, “a strange – umm - cavalcade has entered Mirkwood.  We are shadowing them closely and they seem to be heading towards this stronghold.”

 

Thranduil and Thorin sat up, immediately on the alert.

 

“What do you mean by ‘strange’?” asked the elven king curiously.

 

“Well, from their exotic clothing, they could be from Near Harad,” replied the scout, wrinkling his brow.  But his voice was edged with excitement.  He obviously had more to say.

 

Thranduil’s knuckles whitened as they gripped the arms of his chair.

 

“And there are foot soldiers and riders and – and – a Mûmak - an _Oliphant_!”  And his eyes opened wide at the sheer wonder of it.

 

Even Thranduil’s eyes opened wide.  During his week of captivity in Umbar, most of his time had been spent shut up with Castor in his bedroom and, during his brief sallies down to the marketplace, he had not caught sight of any of these legendary creatures.  And now there was one in Mirkwood!

 

“Lucky Bilbo isn’t here,” snorted Thorin in amazement.  “He’d risk his life to see one of those!”

 

“And – and – riding in some sort of elaborate, canopied palanquin on its back,” continued the scout, rather pleased with the stir he was creating, “sort of reclining as if on a bed, is what looks like a – a – prince, dressed in beautiful silks and draped in fabulous jewels; handsome man – long black plaits!”

 

Thorin and Tranduil looked at each other in horror.  _Castor!_ their eyes said to each other.  The dwarven king clasped the elf’s arm as reassuringly as he could.

 

“I shall summon the council straight away,” snarled the elven king.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

The council heard the news in silence.  Finally, Badhron, a rather pompous and nit-picking elf lord, looked up and asked: “Have we any reason to believe that this is the same group who invaded Beorn’s lands?  The Corsairs whom you claimed, my lord king, had been driven out ‘effectively’?”

 

Thranduil acknowledged that this might be so.

 

“And now, they appear to have returned with reinforcements – not to mention an oliphant!  Do you think they intend to attack Mirkwood?  Or are they passing through to attack Dale, perhaps, or even Erebor?”

 

Thranduil frowned.  “Their force doesn’t sound large enough to attack strongholds like Mirkwood or Erebor.”

 

“Is it possible,” asked Glinor, a friend of the elven king, “that they have come for some other purpose?  Perhaps we should approach them with an embassy and find out what they are doing here?  I suppose it could be that they have come to trade or that they have no connection with the group who sailed up the Anduin and attacked you and Thorin.”

 

The other councillors murmured in agreement.  They didn’t want to believe that this foreign troop meant trouble.  But, the two kings were convinced that it was Castor and that his presence meant trouble in a big way: they just couldn’t fathom what he was up to, nor did they want to tell the council about Thranduil’s enslavement.  They glanced across the room at Legolas and he seemed to agree with them, giving a slight shake of his head.

 

Thranduil thought hard for a moment and then he decided: “We shall withdraw all our forces to our stronghold here and shut our gates.  We shall then see – from a position of safety – what their intentions may be.”  The other elf lords nodded: it seemed like the best idea.

 

.o00o.

 

The troop, apparently from Near Harad, pressed slowly onwards through the forest: it would take them at least another 24 hours to reach the elven stronghold.  Thranduil ordered the gates to be secured and then he and Thorin went to bed, hoping to get enough rest for the following day.  But, neither could sleep.  The elf lay in the dwarven king’s arms and murmured: “I’m sure he’s come for us – although how he hopes to recapture us, surrounded as we are by our own forces, I just don’t know.”

 

“Neither do I,” replied a worried Thorin.  “And what bothers me is the absolute confidence of his advance, as if he has no doubt that he will achieve his ends.  If we decided to attack him with our own superior numbers, then we would easily overcome him.  What is he up to?  I am afraid of his manoeuvres because I just don’t understand them.”

 

They spoke quietly, long into the night, but only managed to snatch an hour or so of sleep just before the dawn.  Then, as they were getting dressed, an urgent knocking came on the door.

 

“My lord, my lord!” called a servant.  “They are at the gates!”

 

The kings stumbled out of their apartment and up to the battlements.  And, yes, they had come.  And, at the head of the troop of foot soldiers and horsemen stood the oliphant.  They both goggled.  The creature was enormous and, for a moment, Thranduil doubted that his gates, even bound as they were with spells, could withstand its power should it choose to charge them.  But, it showed no signs of attack mode.  Instead, it stood there quietly, and, on its back, lounged Castor on a pile of silken cushions within the canopied palanquin. 

 

Badhron and Glinor joined them on the battlements and Castor looked up languidly at them.  Then he gestured forward a herald who crossed the bridge before the gates and held up a scroll.  “I have come with a message of intent for the council of Mirkwood.  Will you accept it?” he cried.  Thranduil nodded and Badhron, as the senior member, hurried down to the postern gate and returned reading the scroll with a furrowed brow.

 

“I think,” said the councillor slowly, “That we need to have a discussion before we can take this any further.”  And he handed over the parchment to the elven king.  Thranduil read the document with an appalled expression on his face.  And then he snorted in indignation.   As he hastened up to the council chamber, Thorin followed closely behind, wondering what it was all about.

 

The council was quickly convened and then Thranduil read out the message from Castor.  It detailed Thranduil’s kidnap from The Grey Havens by the captain and the mate of the _Sea Horse_.  Then it described how the elf was put up for auction in Umbar and how Castor had paid a vast sum of money for him – and then how his valuable ‘possession’ had been stolen away from him.  In an effort to reclaim his property, the prince had then set out after the pair with a small force but had been defeated in their attempt by an angry Beorn.

 

Those were the details and there followed Castor’s demands.

 

He wanted the return of his property and he also insisted that Thorin be given to him as a bonded servant for 5 years to make up for the time, the financial loss and the deaths of half his men who had been killed during the pursuit for which he held the dwarf’s actions responsible.

 

When he had finished reading, the elven king looked up and waited for the shouts of outrage and the cries for revenge at the insult.  But, the chamber was strangely silent.  Thorin and Thranduil glanced at each other and, for the first time, felt concerned for the outcome of the meeting.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

In the silence, Glinor suddenly cleared his throat: “May I ask, my lord, why you decided not to tell us of your kidnapping and enslavement?”

 

“Because,” Thranduil replied, “both Thorin and I were concerned that you and Erebor would want to take up arms in revenge.  We wanted no deaths on our behalf.”

 

“Very commendable,” snapped Badhron sharply.  “But wasn’t that a decision that should have been left to the council?”

 

Thranduil stiffened.  “I am the king,” he said haughtily.  “And I make the final decisions.”

 

An indignant murmur ran around the room.  _NOT a good choice of words_ , thought Thorin.

 

“I assume,” the elven king continued angrily, “that you are at least agreed that we send this arrogant prince packing?”

 

Again, the silence.   Finally, Badhron stood and said: “I’m afraid this isn’t a straightforward case, my lord king.  The prince didn’t kidnap you himself but paid good money for you down in Umbar.  You were thus, it could be said, his property, and Thorin had no right to help you escape.”

 

Thranduil stood with his mouth open.

 

“We elves,” Badhron continued pompously, “have the wisdom of the centuries and we must be careful that we do the right and fair thing, no matter what the situation and even when a decision is not in our favour.  Middle-earth will be watching us.”

 

The elven king was shocked to see how many in the room nodded and murmured in agreement.  They weren’t seriously considering handing over both him and Thorin to Castor, were they?  And then his heart turned cold.  He studied the elf lords whom he had known for hundreds if not thousands of years.  Over that period of time, he had offended some, many didn’t like him, few were his friends and a number were after power – his power.  And now was their chance to seize it.  They could get rid of their king in a bloodless coup and hope to do well from the fall-out – not to mention the satisfaction of revenge.

 

However, Glinor leapt to his feet and defended him angrily.  “If you are thinking of handing over your king to the Corsairs – to deliver him freely into sexual slavery and without a fight – then you shall be shamed for ever!  What is wrong with you all that you should even consider this?”

 

But, Badhron answered smoothly: “Well, let us not get heated, Glinor.  We all need to sleep on this.  Let us invite the prince to a meeting tomorrow when we shall all vote upon the matter, hmm?”

 

And, that’s how the council meeting was wrapped up, with a message to Castor.  He and his force had camped in silken tents all down the road which led to the stronghold and Thranduil, standing on the battlements, saw the triumphant grin that spread across the prince’s face as he read the invitation before disappearing into his pavilion.

 

.o00o.

 

That night, Thorin clasped his lover in bewilderment.  “They won’t just hand you over to Castor, surely?  I don’t believe it!”

 

“I don’t know how the vote will go,” sighed Thranduil.  “Many will support me but, perhaps, there are enough who think otherwise to swing it the other way.  But, whatever happens,” he added fiercely, “you cannot possibly be part of the deal.  No elf can make a decision about a dwarven king!”

 

“If you go, then I go too,” said Thorin passionately.  “I don’t care what the circumstances are – I refuse to let you go on your own.  He can use me as he pleases, as long as I can be near you!”

 

“Ah, my love,” replied the elven king gently, remembering the horror of his captivity, “you have no idea what you are wishing upon yourself.  Castor would make me watch your debasement and I couldn’t bear it.  If you love me, then you will do your best to stay behind.”

 

Then it occurred to them that this might be their last night together and they clutched each other desperately, making love until Thorin fell asleep – and Thranduil pretended to do the same.

 

.o00o.

 

When it was obvious that the dwarven king was sleeping soundly, Thranduil slipped from their bed and made his way quietly down to the postern gate where he gestured the guards aside.  Then he went out into the night and made his way to Castor’s pavilion.  He could see a lamp still burning within the tent and when a soldier blocked his way, he told him to announce his presence to the prince.  Within moments, he was allowed inside.

 

Castor was lounging on his bed – rather like that first time they had met - and didn’t seem in the least surprised to see him.  “I’ve been expecting you,” he said with a lewd smile.  “I had a feeling you might want to discuss things.”

 

Thranduil kept his distance.  “The council will cast their vote tomorrow as to whether I should be delivered into your hands or not.  My fate rests with them.  But, I have come to talk about Thorin.  I want you to leave him out of the equation: this is between you and me.”

 

“Ah,” laughed the prince, raising an interested eyebrow.  “I see that you are unsure of their backing.  Otherwise, why else are you here?  Well,” he mused, “if it’s any consolation, I am unsure which way they will jump too, so I am willing to play a game.”

 

Thranduil tensed: “What game?”

 

“Neither of us know what the outcome of the vote will be tomorrow and so I am asking you to take a chance.  I promise to leave Thorin out of things should the vote go my way but only if you spend the rest of the night with me.  I wouldn’t want to miss out on one last fuck should things go against me.  Of course,” he added, “should you win the vote, I shall return to Umbar, you will never see me again and our intimacy will have been totally unnecessary.  What say you?”

 

It didn’t take Thranduil long to make up his mind: he would risk anything for Thorin.  And, without a word, he stripped off his robe.  As Castor reached out for him, his body seemed to cringe away.  He had done this sort of thing before – for Thorin’s sake – but that had been with Ethril, a long-time friend, and it hadn’t disgusted him; but, with Castor, there was much to disgust.  Yes, he was handsome, but he was also corrupt, decadent and sadistic and the elven king’s gorge rose in his throat as he thought of what would be demanded of him before the morning came.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

Thranduil had never been so glad to see the sun rise.  When he had been Castor’s slave in Umbar, he had been drugged to keep him cooperative and eager to please; but, in an undrugged state, the experience was hard to bear.  The prince had taken him from behind, not too roughly at first, but careful to repeatedly hit that spot which would cause the elf to harden against his will.  He had used a cock ring once more to ensure that Thranduil’s swollen member, once up, couldn’t subside.  He was fascinated by the elf’s piercing and pearling, having discovered the pleasure that these things could bring, and, with the king in a constantly priapic state, he took his lustful fill of this particular form of body art.

 

He had beaten Thranduil again too, as a punishment for running away – and because he enjoyed it – although, this time, he didn’t use the whip with the metal tips: he didn’t want too much damage to the possession that he was sure would soon be his again.

 

As the dawn came, the elven king got dressed.  Castor blew him a kiss in farewell.  “Until we meet again,” he said with a lecherous grin.

 

.o00o.

 

The two kings hurried up to the council chamber.  The elf had managed to get back to his apartment and have a bath before Thorin had woken up and he was now trying to walk without showing the discomfort he was in.  The large chamber was full to bursting, packed not only with councillors but with other Mirkwood elves who would, however, have no part in the vote.

 

At the very back of the room stood a tall, cloaked and hooded figure whom no-one noticed.

 

Thranduil sat on a prominent chair with Thorin on one side and a smirking Castor on the other.  Badhron stood and gave a résumé of the situation and his king gained some consolation from the gasps of shock and horror that came from the new attendees: small consolation, however, when they wouldn’t get the chance to vote.  The councillors still kept their cards close to their chest.

 

“And now,” said Badhron in his usual pompous manner, “we shall hold a secret ballot on whether or not our king should stay here in Mirkwood or return with Prince Castor to Umbar.”

 

“Or,” said a clear, melodious voice from the hooded figure at the back of the hall, “I can suggest a third choice.”

 

“And what could that possibly be?” asked the councillor in irritation.

 

The figure pushed his way to the front of the chamber and pulled off his hood.

 

Badhron raised an eyebrow; Thorin snorted angrily and Thranduil half rose from his seat with a gasp on his lips.  “Ethril!” he exclaimed.  Castor watched with interest.

 

“What are you doing back here again?” snarled Thorin.

 

Ethril, the elf lord, had been sent into exile – under Elrond’s care – after he had tried to break up the relationship between the two kings.  He was a long-term friend of Thranduil and he loved him deeply.

 

The elf looked up with a beautiful, sad smile and, seeing the dwarf’s angry face, said: “I have saved your life once before, Thorin, and perhaps I can save you again.”  The dwarven king sat back, remembering with gratitude the time when he had been badly wounded and Ethril had rescued him.

 

“But I would like to know,” asked Thranduil a bit sharply, “what you are doing here when you should be in Rivendell?”

 

“I kept out of your way when you recently stayed at The Last Homely House on your way back from The Grey Havens.  After you had left, Elrond called me to him and told me your story.  He was worried that Castor would follow you – he was right, of course – and asked me to track you both and help you should you get into trouble.”

 

“So, where were you when Castor and his men finally attacked us?” snapped Thorin.

 

Ethril gave him a wry smile.  “Why do you think that Beorn appeared so opportunely?”  Thorin shut up.  “As you came down from the Misty Mountains, I overtook you and scouted ahead along the road.  I found the Corsair ship moored on the Anduin and, knowing that the three of us would be no match for them, I searched for Beorn and asked for his help.   He coped with the situation all by himself, as you witnessed.  I camped in Mirkwood until your leg had set, Thorin, and then followed you home, making sure that nothing more happened to you.  Then, as I set out for Rivendell again, I came across Castor and his force.  So…..I have come to see if there is any more I can do.”

 

Thranduil nodded a gracious thanks.  “I am in your debt once more, Ethril,” he said.

 

Castor watched the little scene playing out before him.  He could see devotion, love and passion in Ethril’s eyes and it intrigued him.  And he wondered why the elven king would choose a dwarf, however handsome, over one of his own kind – and one so beautiful too.

 

“So, elf,” he said, “What is this further choice you would offer me?  And what possible choice could be better than two kings as my slaves?”

 

“ _Two_ kings?” gasped Thranduil.  “But we agreed……”

 

“I lied,” sneered the prince.  And Thranduil nearly choked on his rage.

 

Ethril took the floor.  “You will only take two kings home with you if the vote goes your way,” he said.  “Otherwise, you will return with nothing.  And so, I would ask: are you a betting man?”

 

“Yes, he likes to play games,” snarled the elven king.

 

“I would like to suggest, Castor, that you either take your chances with the ballot and risk losing everything or you can accept a fair exchange.”  And he gave the prince a challenging look.  Castor looked back.

 

Then Ethril said clearly and with a steady voice: “I would like to offer myself as a replacement for Thranduil.  I may not be a king but I would come willingly and stay with you until the end of your days – whereas Thranduil would fight you every step of the way and would doubtless have to be drugged once more.  You can either take me as a certainty or you can risk all on the outcome of a ballot.”

 

Thorin, seeing the thoughtful look in Castor’s eyes, upped the offer.  “And, in return for losing me and for your losses on the expedition when you came after us, then I would give you a portion of the gold of Erebor.  You may be wealthy but the treasure I would give you would include objects of great beauty, never before seen in Near Harad.”

 

Castor was thinking.  What the elf said had merit.  Ethril was almost as good-looking as Thranduil and he would come willingly.  And he remembered the drugged state of the elven king and how he had drifted around with a rather unattractive, vacant look in his eyes.  And a haul of dwarven treasure!  All guaranteed.

 

“I accept,” he said.

 

“No!” exclaimed Thranduil.  I cannot let you do this!”

 

Ethril bowed his head.  “It would give me pleasure to do so – to serve the one I love.  What is a human lifetime?  It is only the blink of an eye to us elves.”  (And Thranduil thought of Thorin).  “Then, I shall return, perhaps to Mirkwood if you will permit it.  To be with you again will be worth all my trials in Umbar.”

 

.o00o.

 

Castor, Ethril and the accompanying force had gone, together with the oliphant.  The two kings were left behind to comfort each other and to remember a faithful friend.  “I want to kill Castor,” hissed Thranduil. 

 

“Me, too,” growled Thorin.  He had been feeling especially bad-tempered ever since he had discovered the new weals on Thranduil’s buttocks.  “And now he appears to have got away free, minus any punishment, with one of your elf lords and a pile of gold.”

 

The elven king pulled his angry lover gently down upon the pillow and said with a sigh:  “Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life.  Gandalf said that to me once, you know, and it’s very true.  But, it’s also true that sometimes slaves turn on their masters.”

 

Poor Ethril, they were both thinking as they kissed and murmured tender words to each other.  And they felt a deep and profound gratitude that they two, at least, had found someone to love in a cruel and harsh world.

 

.o00o.

 

 

**Well, I hope you didn’t find the outcome of that story too unlikely.  I wanted to finish off the Castor story – and I’m sorry I didn’t makehim die in a horrible way, LOL.  I also wanted to tidy up the Ethril story.  I think that he is hoping that, when he returns from Umbar afterCastor’s death, Thorin will be dead too and that he will still stand a chance with Thranduil.  What do you think?   Yes, poor Ethril.**

**This story has become part of a trilogy, as I have said above, even though I didn’t mean to write them that way.  The first story is The _Kings and the Slave Market_ ; the second is _The Kings and the Prince of Umbar_ and the third is this.  If you missed any of these, you might want to have a go. **

 

**As for the stories about Ethril, he gets a mention in the very first episode, _King of the Antlered Throne_.  Then the first proper story about him is _The Kings and the Elf Lord_ and he returns to save Thorin in _The Kings and an Old Love_.**

**The fact that these three Castor stories developed into a trilogy helped me to keep going.  Don’t know how much longer it will take to get a totally new idea and write another one!  Thank you very much for reading.**

 

 


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